


What's My Chance, Love?

by CommanderCryptic



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Romance, Songfic, Third Wheels, World Meeting (Hetalia)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:09:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29403891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommanderCryptic/pseuds/CommanderCryptic
Summary: France absolutelylovesto play matchmaker.So, one fateful day, she decides to use a little something called jealousy in order to make England and America confess their feelings to one another.Because when it comes tol'amour,sometimes all it takes is that one little push.Based on the song "Hey Na Na" by Katie Herzig.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia), America/France (Hetalia)
Kudos: 18





	What's My Chance, Love?

“Just do it.”

“No.”

“Come on, _Angleterre_ ! This is a perfect opportunity, you mustn't let it go to waste!”

England crossed both arms over his chest indignantly, glaring at his nemesis. “There’s  _ no way in hell _ I’m following along with your stupid plans!” 

France frowned and glared back. She went into the conversation knowing full well that England was  _ not  _ an easy person to convince, (especially when it came to matters of  _ l’amour _ ) though she liked to think she was a decent negotiator. 

Suddenly, the meeting room door flew open. 

“Speak of the devil,” France whispered to England with a small smirk. 

Oh, he was a devil alright. 

A blonde-haired, blue-eyed, loud-mouthed devil.

“Hey, people!” America greeted with an enthusiastic wave as he made his grand entrance. “Sorry I’m late, the traffic’s pretty shitty this morning.”

England scoffed and shook his head. “Using such undignified language. How crass!” 

France didn’t miss a beat. “Yet, you’re still head-over-heels for him.” 

“Why, you—”

England narrowed his eyes, prepared to start another argument with France while France prepared to do the same. 

Thankfully, the opportunity was lost. 

Germany cleared his throat, signifying for everybody to quiet down  _ or else _ . (Nobody really knew what the ‘or else’ was, but knowing Germany, it most likely involved lots of yelling.)

“I take it that we’ve all arrived by now, yes?” Germany asked, his harsh stare lingering on America for a couple of seconds. “ _ Sehr gut.  _ I believe it’s time to begin our annual World Summit.” He paused and looked at France. “France will now be giving brief introductory statements, then we can discuss matters from our previous meeting.” 

Everybody else (with the exception of England, of course) seemed okay with that. The meeting  _ was  _ being hosted in Paris this time, after all. 

France stood up from her seat, flicking a lock of dirty-blonde hair away from her face. As she walked up to the front of the room, she threw a not-so-subtle smug look at England, who would’ve probably given her the finger if it weren’t for the hundreds of other nations watching. 

_ He can be so foolish. Always trying to repress… C’est triste!  _

Everyone knew. Everyone else but  _ them _ . 

France knew America was probably just too oblivious to even recognize his feelings toward England. But England had no such excuse, and nothing could convince her otherwise. 

So, upon learning about what was going on between the two, France was determined to play matchmaker. She was the world’s big sister, after all!

“ _ Bonne après-midi _ . I hope you’ve all been enjoying your time in Paris, so far!” France gushed. “Hm.. but, then again, who wouldn’t fall in love with my gorgeous city at first sight?” 

“I could name a few,” England muttered bitterly. 

Ignoring England’s retort, France simply grinned and went back to her seat. 

As Germany read some financial report out loud, (he probably explained its significance at some point, though France was a little too preoccupied to notice.) 

_ I suppose if he got rid of those ridiculous eyebrows and that stick up his ass, he would be a lot more handsome.  _

England caught France staring and rolled his eyes. 

_ And, daresay, a little more tolerable, too.  _

France’s gaze traveled across the table (or, as some liked to call it, ‘The Atlantic’) to America. He was leaned back in his seat, head resting on his hands. He also just-so-happened to be staring at a certain green-eyed nation on the other side of The Atlantic, but he immediately glanced away when he noticed France was looking. 

She frowned to herself. 

_ This isn’t good. Neither of them is making any moves!  _

_ Those two can be so stubborn, just like little children.  _

Then, an idea sparked in France’s mind. 

It was a diabolic, cruel little plan. But it absolutely  _ had  _ to work!

Another grin formed on her face—though this one slightly resembled a leer. 

_ Amérique, Angleterre…  _

_ By the end of the day, you two will be an item! _

It was around 2:00 PM, and France was growing restless. 

She needed to do something.  _ Now.  _

So, she left her home, with a randomized playlist blasting through her earphones. 

Usually, she wasn’t a big fan of shuffle-play. But she was feeling rather adventurous that day. 

A catchy guitar-drum beat began, one that she didn’t recognize. It was actually quite nice, though. 

She glanced at her phone, curious as to what the song was called. 

_ Katie Herzig?  _

_ I’ve never heard of her until now… _

France continued her impromptu stroll. The weather was pleasant, albeit a little on the humid side…

“Yo, Frenchie!”

France whipped her head around to identify the source of the voice. 

“Ah,  _ Salut! _ What a pleasant surprise to see you here,  _ mon amie _ !” France turned down the volume of her song a few bars so she could continue conversing, though she didn’t turn it off entirely.

“Yeah,  _ sure, _ ” snapped another voice sarcastically. 

Standing next to America was England, looking about as delighted as a dad meeting his daughter’s boyfriend for the first time. 

“Aw, don’t be like that, limey!” America threw his arm around England’s shoulder. “This place’s  _ awesome _ ! Well, nothing compared to the Big Apple, but…”

America continued to ramble, though his words fell upon deaf ears. 

France was suddenly reminded of her little scheme. 

_ This is my chance! _

**_Your eyes are like a blue sky, blue sky blue._ **

**_You’re floating in the fountain, in the fountain of youth._ **

“My, my,  _ Amérique _ . Are those new frames?” France leaned in close, making direct eye contact with America. Their faces were mere inches apart, and it was especially obvious to a certain Englishman. 

“I, um—” For once in his long life, America didn’t know what to say. 

**_I bet you have an ocean, secret little potion,_ **

**_I bet you have a lover who's as fine as you!_ **

“America, we’re going to be late,” England interrupted before glancing at his timepiece impatiently. 

France raised one eyebrow. “Oh? You two don’t happen to be on a date, or anything—”

“NO!” England denied a little too quickly and a little too loudly. “I-It’s nothing like that. We’re just friends, that’s all.” 

_ ‘That’s all?’  _

_ Somehow, I’m not so sure... _

An awkward silence ensued. 

“We’re seeing  _ 120 BPM  _ at Studio 28 _ , _ ” America said, hoping to break up some of the awkwardness. 

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to watch it on the big screen!” France exclaimed. “Say, since this  _ isn’t  _ a date,” She eyed Arthur skeptically, “You wouldn’t mind if I tagged along, would you?”

America smiled, flashing a set of perfect white teeth. “Sure, why not?”

**_Hey, Mr. Love,_ **

**_Mr. Big Love, Big Love!_ **

_ Hm… I might need to amp it up, just a little…  _

“ _ Merci Beaucoup _ !” France gave America a quick kiss on the cheek.

America chuckled, (a little bit nervously, France noted) not exactly sure what he was supposed to do. 

Meanwhile, England was glaring at a poor pebble on the ground, directing his attention  _ anywhere  _ but the bright red lipstick mark on America’s left cheek. 

The mission was going perfectly, so far. 

Between encountering the two men on the street and arriving at Studio 28, France had managed to torment England with her flirting. 

At the entrance, America began digging through his pockets for his credit card. 

“Don’t worry about it,  _ mon chéri _ !” France swiftly brought out her own card and handed it to the employee, then gave America a wink. “Tickets are on me.” 

“Really? You don’t have to—”

France tapped him on the nose playfully. “ _ Tsk, tsk.  _ Just think of it as a gift!”

England was, once again, looking away. His mouth was drawn into an ugly (perhaps, jealous?) scowl. “ _ Stupid France… flirting with everything that’s got a pulse… _ !”

**_I've got a little secret too, I've got a mad little crush on you._ **

**_I wonder if you notice, wonder if you see,_ **

**_I wonder if you ever want to dance with me!_ **

_ 120 Battements par Minute  _ was a French drama film that involved themes of AIDS activism and… homosexuality. 

Most likely the type of movie Hungary would love to watch. 

_ Ah, so perfect! Angleterre and Amerique were planning on seeing this together… alone… how romantic!  _

_ Although knowing Eyebrows, he’d probably just blush and glare the entire time.  _

Throughout the film, France continued her teasing. 

_ He  _ **_has_ ** _ to snap, eventually,  _ France thought as England continued to glower at the wall.  _ Just a little longer. _

Eventually, the movie had reached its intermission. 

America stretched his limbs and sighed, staring at his now-empty bucket of popcorn. “Hm… I could go for a refill.” 

“ _ Moi aussi. _ ” 

Without saying anything, England got up and followed them out of the theater. 

As the employee shoveled popcorn into America’s bucket, France decided to employ another tactic. 

She tapped America on the shoulder. 

“Yeah?”

“You’ve got a new phone,  _ oui _ ?”

“Oh, right! I meant to get everyone’s numbers back at the meeting, but I kinda forgot…”

“No worries! We can exchange contacts now if you’d like.”

“M’kay!”

And so, America handed his phone over to France temporarily. 

_ My, what is this? _

The only number in America’s new phone was England’s. Or, ‘Iggy,’ as listed in his contacts. 

_ What an adorable nickname! _

France took a quick glance at his number. 

**_555-7172, now, 555-7172._ **

She clicked ‘new contact’ and entered the number. A cheeky smile appeared on her face as she returned America’s phone and tapped the ‘Send Message’ button. 

**_And oh, before you go, before you go_ **

**_Let me just take one last glance, love._ **

* * *

F: We should make plans more often!

America heard a  _ ding  _ and looked down at his phone.

A: yeah that’d be cool!

F: ;)

* * *

**_Oh, before you go, before you go,_ **

**_Could you tell me, what's my chance, love?_ **

“America.” England took a few steps forward, finally snapping out of his little trance. “Can we… talk?” He shot a glare in France’s direction. “ _ Alone _ .” 

“Okay!”

So, France watched on in amusement as the two headed to a secluded corner of the lobby. Unfortunately, she couldn’t quite catch exactly what they were saying, but she had a pretty good idea. 

England said something slowly, his face bright red. A pink blush dusted America’s cheeks, as well. 

Their faces grew closer and closer, and closer still…

The moment their lips touched, France let out a squeal of excitement. 

_ Mission accomplished.  _

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this quick little fic! Please comment/review, it really helps!


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